


Roadhouse Angel

by MashiarasDream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Bi!Dean, M/M, Mostly Fluff, in progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 12:45:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2310104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashiarasDream/pseuds/MashiarasDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean downed another whiskey before turning around to where he had felt a pair of eyes staring a hole into him for the duration of the last three shots. „If I was you, I’d be careful because the answer is very likely going to be yes.“</p><p>AU in which Dean is still a hunter, but Sam actually went to Stanford and John got himself killed a while ago.</p><p>---<br/>on permanent hiatus. sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean downed another whiskey before turning around to where he had felt a pair of eyes staring a hole into him for the duration of the last three shots. „If I was you, I’d be careful because the answer is very likely going to be yes.“  
“What?” The other man sputtered, immediately averting his eyes.  
Dean grinned. Brave enough to stare but too shy to flirt, huh? “Two more of these, please”, he ordered while raising his glass.  
The bartender raised her eyebrows, disapproval clear in her expression.  
Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m not planning to get pissed. One is for me, one is for him. No wait”, he stopped Ellen when she wanted to slide the second glass over to the guy. “The drink is yours, handsome stranger, but you’ll have to come over to drink it.” He patted the barstool next to him.  
Was that a blush that was creeping up the guy’s cheeks? He was flustered, but he wasn’t freaking out by being called handsome by another guy. Dean smirked. One checkmark on the mental list down.  
“I… I don’t drink whiskey.”  
Gravelly voice, slightly hesitant, but pleasant. Definitely pleasant. Dean liked. But the guy was still not looking up at him. Time for his own sexy voice, then. He dropped his tone a whole octave: “But your glass is empty. And there is no one to talk to over there where you’re sitting. While there is gorgeous me over on this…”  
Bright blue eyes pierced him, shutting him up as effectively as a punch to the stomach. It felt like a punch, too. Like all the air had suddenly been sucked out of him. And the eyes still didn’t let him go. The room began to grow dizzy. Air. Right. He had to breathe. How the hell had this guy made him forget to breathe?  
“Are you alright?” Head slightly at an angle as if trying to puzzle him out, the gravelly voice was earnest, hesitation replaced with instant worry.  
“Look”, Dean cleared his throat and started anew after taking a moment to collect himself and find back to his usual easy-going self, “don’t take this the wrong way but the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid.”  
There was an indignant huff and Dean immediately held up his hands: “I’m not saying that that is what’s going to happen here, but you have been staring at me for quite a while. So you might as well come over and talk to me.”  
But as much as he tried to be relaxed and charming, Dean caught himself averting his eyes when the other man fixed his gaze on him. Damn, those eyes were blue. Still, he turned the rest of his body a few inches towards the man. Might as well show him the merchandise if he wanted to get laid. And boy, did he want to get laid.  
Unfortunately, looking away from the stranger he ended up looking right into Ellen’s frown. She shook her head disapprovingly, fully aware of what he was doing. At least Jo wasn’t in. Things with Jo were, well, not complicated as such. But when they were younger, John, Dean’s Dad, and Ellen, Jo’s mother, would have liked to see the two of them together. Then, when Dean had grown up, Ellen had become fiercely protective of her daughter. Not that Dean blamed her. He wasn’t one of the good guys and he knew it.  
“Alright.”  
Dean’s attention turned back to the present when the other guy finally nodded and got up, just to slide back down on the stool next to Dean’s.  
Dean smiled and tried to be unobtrusive when turning the tables and scanning the other man, too. The eyes were his most radiant feature but Dean liked the hair, too, dark and crumpled, a bedhead in the middle of the evening that looked like no comb would do anything to straighten it. And the rest of the guy wasn’t half bad, either. He looked slightly out of place in his suit, his trench coat by his side. But his tie was loosened, the top button of the shirt open, and with a bit of imagination you could make out a nice body under all those clothes. That worked well enough for him.  
“I’m Dean”, Dean finally introduced himself.  
“Hello Dean”, for the first time something that might or might not be a small smile brightened both the expression and the voice of the other man.  
That weird feeling in his stomach came back and Dean caught himself wondering whether the small dips in the stranger’s cheeks would turn into dimples when the guy smiled broadly. He coughed and shook his head to dispel the image. These were not thoughts that he usually had when looking for a one-night-stand. “You got a name, too?”  
The other man narrowed his eyes as if scrutinizing Dean to find a hidden agenda.  
“Hey”, Dean said, “it’s customary to share your own name, too, when someone tells you his.”  
After another moment of hesitation, the other man nodded: “I’m Castiel.”  
“Alright”, maybe if he had a name like that, he wouldn’t tell it to strangers, either. “Hey there, Cas. Nice meeting you.”  
Again with the stare instead of a proper answer. Dean got uncomfortable under those eyes and raised his glass, prompting Castiel to do the same.  
Another hesitation but then he followed his lead. Good, that was good. Dean liked it when he was in charge. “So, what do you do, Cas?” he went for introductory small-talk.  
Disgust tinted Castiel’s features when he downed half of his whiskey. He shook his head and coughed. “I’m drinking a barely not poisonous liquid while sitting here and talking to you.”  
Dean wanted to start laughing but something about Castiel’s expression told him that the comment was meant seriously. Somewhat confused, he said: “You don’t have to drink it, you know? Order whatever you want.”  
And the head was back at an angle, watching him like a puppy who’s trying to understand humans talking about fucking Vonnegut.  
“I mean it, Cas. Order what you want. I personally like whiskey. I like the way it burns down my throat. I like the way I can still feel it in the pit of my stomach after the glass is already empty. But it isn’t for everyone.”  
Alright, that was more information than he had wanted to share. Jeez, this guy was so quiet that it turned Dean into a babbler.  
“I’ll try it with the knowledge that it is supposed to burn. Also, you have invited me and I have accepted the drink. It would be rude not to drink it now.”  
Dean couldn’t decide whether it was cute or whether there was something wrong with this guy. Either he had no reference system for social interactions or no filter for his thoughts. Still, there was something about him and Dean refrained from a sarcastic comment: “I appreciate that. What I meant with my original question, though, was what do you work? It ain’t often that I see a suit at the Roadhouse.”  
“You are here often.”  
Aha. So he could deflect questions when he wanted to. Dean smiled. “Yep. Practically grew up here. Ellen didn’t raise me on booze, if that’s what you think”, he quickly added because he didn’t want to give the wrong impression. “But my Dad shipped us off to her often when he was travelling and couldn’t take us with him.”  
“Us.”  
“My brother Sam and me.” Damn, here he was spilling his whole life-story and he hadn’t gotten anything out of the other guy yet. “What about you?”  
“I – travel a lot.”  
“Salesman?”  
“No.”  
Dean looked him up and down again: “No, wouldn’t fit you, either. You’re too straight-forward. You couldn’t sell jackshit. No offense.” He’d swear, he’d never seen eyes this blue.  
“I specialize in saving people.”  
Whoa. “You mean you’re a missionary or something?” Dean took two mental steps and at least half a real step backwards. He didn’t want to talk about saving his soul. No bedhead could make up for that.  
“No, Dean”, this time the smile spread a little wider, “I save people. I cannot save their souls. That’s everyone’s own business.”  
And whoa again. “Can you read thoughts?”  
“Only when they’re obvious.”  
The bright gleam of white teeth showing under Cas’ lips when he smiled distracted Dean. Say something. Quick, before the pause gets too long. “So, do you do this often?”  
“What do you mean?”  
Jesus, did he have to spell it out? “Picking up a guy for the night in a bar. Do you do that often?”  
“No!” Indignant reached whole new levels  
“But you travel.”  
“Yes. But I’m not...”  
It dawned on Dean: “You’re in a relationship.”  
“Yes. No. It’s complicated.”  
Wow. Another punch to the stomach. If Cas was an innocent family father or something, he wasn’t sure he could go through with this. Dean was a jerk, but not that much of a jerk. “Listen, Cas, maybe this is not such a good idea.” And why did it feel like stabbing himself to say that?  
“No, Dean”, Cas was shaking his head, “it’s not like that.”  
Was that a slightly pleading tone? “Then explain it to me.”  
“I can’t.”  
Okay, that answer came faster than a gunshot. Dean raised his eye-brows.  
“I can’t. You wouldn’t understand.”  
His eyebrows were rising even higher. “Try me.”  
He watched the panic settling on Cas’ features, widening his eyes and draining the color from his cheeks. Ok, maybe it was easier if he was asking the questions.  
“Do you have children?” Dean asked quietly. That one was the biggie in his mind. He didn’t want a family in trouble because of him.  
“No”, Cas shook his head.  
Dean sighed a sigh of relief. “Okay. A wife?”  
“No”, again a shake of his head.  
“A husband?”  
“Dean…”  
“Just asking.” He flashed Cas a smile that he hoped was disarming. Damn, he was better at this usually. “So if you have none of the above, who are you tied to then?”  
For a moment, it was silent, the background noise of the bar getting so much louder. “My ward”, came the unwilling answer finally.  
“Your ward? Like an orphan or something?”  
“Technically, I guess that’s correct. He’s an orphan.”  
“He, huh?”  
“Yes.”  
“So you’re travelling with him?”  
“Yes.”  
“Where is he then?”  
No answer.  
“It’s just cause, you shouldn’t leave a kid alone in a crappy motel for too long.”  
“It scared you when your father did that to you.”  
“What makes you say that?” Dean’s voice was a notch harder than before. He didn’t talk about his childhood. Not to strangers and not to friends. Period.  
“You said your father left you behind often. But not always. So you must have travelled.”  
“Yeah”, he guessed he had said that. Served him right for spilling his guts that the embarrassment now crept up into his cheeks.  
Cas spared him the effort of thinking up an answer, though: “Dean? My ward isn’t a child.”  
“What?”  
A slightly weary smile crept into Cas ‘eyes: “Doesn’t mean he doesn’t need all the help he can get.”  
“You’re fond of him”, Dean stated when he noticed the warmth that had accompanied the sentence.  
“I have tried not to be. It is easier when I’m not.”  
“Easier?” Dean repeated.  
“It hurts”, the man had his head sideways again, deep in thought, “it hurts when - my ward gets hurt. It hurts me even though there is no physical ailment to my body. That shouldn’t happen.”  
“So you are a bodyguard or something? You’re saving people’s lives by protecting them from criminals?”  
“A bodyguard? Yes, I guess that is what I am. Though I protect them from themselves more often than I protect them from criminals.”  
“How so?”  
This time the smile was almost sarcastic: “I persuade them not to drive after they’ve been drinking this vile stuff.” He raised his glass with the rest of the whiskey and downed it.  
Dean laughed and did the same with his whiskey: “Ellen, we’re going to need more vile stuff!”  
Ellen still wore her frown: “Your tolerance for alcohol is way too high, Dean. Your Dad wouldn’t like to see it.”  
Dean groaned. “Do you have to, Ellen? Do you really have to? I’m trying to make a good impression here and you have to bring up my father like I’m some teen? My dead father nonetheless.”  
“Here”, Ellen sat the whiskey bottle on the table with a loud bang, “get your own refills. If you die of alcohol poisoning, it’s not my fault. And you”, she turned to the dark haired man, “you be careful. Dean’s charming but he’s also a jerk. You look like a nice guy. Don’t let him corrupt you. And don’t let him break your heart.”  
“Jesus, Ellen”, Dean muttered. “It’s like having your mother hover over your first date. Only that I’m pretty sure my mother wouldn’t have been quite so mean.”  
“I’m not mean, Dean, I’m telling the truth. Coming, Ash, I’m coming”, she turned away to where Ash was calling her from the other side of the bar.  
“She is fond of you, too”, Cas stated quietly.  
“What?”  
“She is fond of you. She will not tell you, the same way you won’t tell her. But you are family to her.”  
Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that the guy was a missionary after all. He fidgeted uncomfortably. “Don’t be too nice to me, Cas. She is right, you know. I’m flaky. I spend the night, but I don’t commit. If you try to count on me, you can be sure that I’ll ditch you. So better heed her warning.”  
“I’m not worried about that, Dean.” And another smile.  
That was weird, because the more Dean told about himself, the worse the stories got. To the point where he now pretty much outright tried to scare the other man away. Because it was true, the other guy was nice. And he seemed innocent. Dean wasn’t sure anymore he wanted to take that away. He busied himself with refilling his glass to get a moment to find his bearings.  
“Dean?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Did I do something wrong?”  
“Jeez, Cas”, Dean ran a hand through his hair. But when he saw that the other man’s face was crunched up unhappily, he felt compelled to talk through the big lump that was forming in his throat: “No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re great. You’re gorgeous. You’re”, he didn’t know where this waterfall of words suddenly came from: “you’re probably a ten thousand times better person than me. I’m just a grunt, Cas. And a loner. That’s all there is to me.”  
Again with the angled head. Dean felt like Cas should be worried or think he was crazy, not meet his gaze kindly, like he did. Damn, Dean half thought himself that he was crazy, what with the many words and the explanations for something he didn’t even know he felt before he said it.  
But Cas’ voice was soft when he answered: “Tell me about Sam.”  
“What?”  
“Your brother, Sam. Tell me about him.”  
“It’s – “, but then, what the hell, if he had spilled this much of his story already, why not. “Sammy’s at Stanford. He’s got a scholarship. I try to send him what money I can, just, you know, so that he doesn’t have to work too much and still has some money to enjoy himself. But he’s sharp as a tack.” Against his will, a smile was giving away his pride when he was talking about his brother. “He’s going to be a lawyer. He’ll make a good lawyer. He’s probably going to fight for all that hippie shit, for the trees and the whales and stuff and never make as much money as he could. But that’s alright. It’s not all about the money after all, is it?”  
Cas’ eyes had gone even softer during Dean’s little speech. “You have raised him well. He’s become a good person.”  
And suddenly he knew what Cas was doing and his eyes hardened. He downed the next shot without so much as looking at him. When he finally turned back to Cas, there was almost a growl to his voice: “Don’t do this again. Don’t manipulate me.”  
As docile and peaceful as the dark-haired man carried himself, he didn’t back down. On the opposite, he leaned closer, studied Dean’s face, and somehow Dean couldn’t look away even though he wanted to because he knew that the pain was barely hidden behind his anger and he didn’t want the other man to see it.  
“You don’t think you deserve kindness”, it was barely more than a whisper and the sadness in the other man’s eyes was too much for Dean. He ripped his eyes away.  
The afterimage of the blue was still swimming in front of his eyes when he felt a hand on his.  
“You are flawed, Dean, that much is true. Everyone is flawed. It does not mean you don’t deserve to be saved. It doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be happy.”  
Damn, this was not what he’d bargained for. He wanted to snatch his hand away from under the heavy warmth of the fingers covering his, but the next thing he knew, what he had done was to turn his hand around, so that his palm was now pressing against the other man’s palm.  
“What are your flaws then?” he asked, desperate to change the topic away from himself and away from the pain that was welling up in his chest. He’d be damned if he allowed his voice to break.  
“According to my superiors, I have too much heart.”  
Dean chuckled drily. “Too much heart, is that even possible?”  
“I don’t know yet.” Cas sounded sincere. “I very much hope they are wrong.”  
The edge to the last few words caught Dean’s attention. Something was off. Something was very off. There was a depth and an intensity to the other man’s words that was wrong. It was too much for here, for now, for just having met. It practically screamed that this was more than a chance encounter. That they’d known each other longer, that they’d shared a past, that there was a hope for something, something bigger, something deeper, something that had nothing to do with hooking up for the night. He stared at the blue eyes and the dark hair, for the moment forgetting about their appeal and just raking his brain to try to remember. Had he met this man before?  
“Do I know you?” Dean finally asked because there was nothing there, nothing in his memory and he was sure he wouldn’t forget eyes like these.  
He felt the flinch at his words, running from the other man’s palm through his palm, and when Castiel wanted to pull away, Dean laced his fingers through the other man’s to make it hard to get away. “Tell me, do I know you?” he insisted.  
“No, you don’t know me, Dean”, but it was barely more than a whisper and the other man had averted his eyes.  
Dean tugged at his hand to make him look up at him again, certain that he had the right instinct: “Do you know me then? Cas? Do you know me?”  
The blood had drained from Cas’ face again, leaving a stark contrast between the dark stubble and the ghostly white skin, when the other man finally met his eyes. He nodded, almost imperceptibly.  
“Jesus”. That was creeping him out. “You know me. Where the hell do you know me from? How come I don’t know you?” His voice was harsher than he had maybe intended for it to be and the other man paled even more. He tried to free his fingers from Dean’s grasp but Dean didn’t let go. He was getting to the bottom of this and he was getting to it now.  
Finally, the other man stopped struggling. He sighed. “I’d like another glass of that vile stuff right now, Dean, thank you very much.”  
Dean obliged and refilled the glass, albeit without letting go of the man’s hand. He had a feeling the other guy might run if he stopped touching him for even a second.  
Cas downed the whiskey in one swift gulp, only to start coughing violently. “How long until this stuff has any effect?” he asked after his lungs had settled down.  
“Don’t change the topic.” Dean was not in the mood for games.  
“I’d like to be able to say that I was under the influence when my superiors ask me about this.”  
“Your superiors? Why would your superiors…?” Dean had a sudden sneaking suspicion. “Are you spying on me, Cas? Is that it? Are you a fucking spy? Who do you work for?” This was creepier than average, and he saw a lot of creepy during his normal days.  
“I told you, Dean. I’m not a spy. I save people.”  
“Yeah, you protect your – “ the word died in Dean’s mouth when Cas’ eyes flitted to his for one telling second before shying away again. Dean’s voice was flat when he continued. “Technically an orphan. But not a child.” He used his free hand to yank at Cas’ shoulder when he wouldn’t look up at him: “Look at me, Cas. Technically an orphan but not a child.”  
The other man did not put up a fight, his mouth was small, the lips so thin they might as well not exist: “That’s what I said.”  
“How the fuck? What does that mean? What the hell, Cas?” Dean wasn’t sure he was coherent anymore. None of this made any sense. “You better explain this to me right now.”  
“I can’t. Not here. Not with that many people around.”  
“Then let’s get out of here.” Dean threw a few dollars on the bar, enough to cover their bill, and dragged Cas up. Somewhere in the back of his mind were several red flags warning him that it was better not to go anywhere private with a guy who had just pretty much admitted to stalking him. But he’d been a hunter long enough to handle a single guy, didn’t matter what kind of tricks he had up his sleeve. And they would go by Baby anyway. There was everything he needed for any kind of emergency in the car.  
He dragged Cas behind him, barely acknowledging Ellen who shouted something unintelligible after him, stomped out of the door and towards the Impala – and nearly ran into a softly spinning wall. “What the fuck?”  
His stomach heaved in the dizzying moment before the image settled. Dark red tapestry, generic flower pattern, frazzled and fading. He turned around. Cheap TV set, two twin size beds. “We’re in my motel room.”  
“You’re not driving when you’re drunk”, Cas’ voice was firm.  
“How the fuck did we get to my motel room?” Dean yelled.  
“I brought us”, Cas replied evenly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who the hell are you? No, what the hell are you?” he asked gruffly but without any attempt at getting his weapons.  
> “I am Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord.”   
> It was just too absurd. “So you are saying that you’re an angel who fell from heaven just for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Steffi / Vivi-Hiddleston-Cubbins for beta-reading the first few chapters! :)  
> Also, this is a work in progress. I have no idea how long it wants to be in the end. If you have opinions on that, let me know. Short and sweet or longer and some actual plot? It might go both ways (kinda like Dean #pun).

Dean wanted to yell some more but he couldn’t find any words, so he just crashed onto one of the beds, in the process finally releasing Cas’ hand. “Godfuckingdamnit. All I wanted was to get laid.”  
“You shouldn’t use the Lord’s name in vain, Dean. It’s not polite.”  
A hysterical laugh found its way out of Dean’s chest towards his mouth. “Not polite, that’s the main point here, yeah right”, he chuckled. He wasn’t sure whether he was angry or amused or just drunk. But he had capitulated before the enigma of the blue eyes and the bedhead and for the moment, he didn’t give a damn about his hunter’s pride. Or his safety, for that matter. “Who the hell are you? No, what the hell are you?” he asked gruffly but without any attempt at getting his weapons.  
“I am Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord.”   
It was just too absurd. “So you are saying that you’re an angel who fell from heaven just for me?” Dean started laughing again.   
“Don’t be ridiculous, Dean. I did not fall. I was sent to protect you.”   
Somehow, the earnest face that went with the absurdity made it even funnier. “Do you realize that this is the cheesiest pick-up line anyone has ever used on me? Dude, I hate to inform you, but there is no such thing as angels. I would know.”  
Annoyance crept into Castiel’s voice. “It is not a pick-up line. And I assure you that I do indeed exist.”   
“Yeah, yeah right. You exist. I give you that. It doesn’t mean that you are an…”   
Dean stopped cold when a sudden flash of lightning lit up the room. It didn’t last longer than an instant, but he saw the wings uncurling and spreading and taking up the whole room. Then the flash was gone and the man before him was just a guy again.   
Dean didn’t think he had ever sobered up this fast. “Ok, I didn’t see that coming.”  
“I would not lie to you, Dean.” And with a pointed look towards Dean’s hand. “And I would never hurt you.”  
It was only then that Dean noticed the gun in his hand. His reflexes were faster than his mind. That was a good thing, probably. “Would it do anything?” he asked.  
“No.”  
He had figured as much. Carefully he laid the gun on the ground. It didn’t matter. His instincts were all he had to go by anyway. And right now they told him that Cas wasn’t lying. Hell, Cas wasn’t even good at dodging questions. Dean was sure he had no evil intent. At least not right now. So he looked up and looked Cas straight in the eyes: “Why?”   
“I do not understand.”  
“I can’t figure this out. If you’re this angel dude, then why hit on me in a bar?”  
“I wasn’t – I was looking.”  
“Alright. Why were you looking at me in a bar?”  
Cas shrugged uncomfortably. “It is different for me when I’m guarding you. I have no eyes to see and no ears to hear. I am the atoms and the particles that form matter, the light in its wavelengths, the sound in its progression through…”  
“Cas.” Staying on subject was apparently not something angels of the Lord were really good at.  
“Right”, Cas cleared his throat. “I wanted to see you, Dean. I wanted to hear you. It was not planned to actually talk to you.”  
Something was nagging at the back of Dean’s brain. Something Cas had said before. No, something he had said. That Cas was fond of his ward. And Cas hadn’t denied it. “So, you’re really like my guardian angel?”  
The angel nodded.  
“That’s a pretty damn shitty job.”  
“It has its perks.”  
“Like seeing me naked?” Damn, Dean, you can’t flirt with a fucking angel. Get a grip.  
“I have no…”  
“No eyes, no ears, yeah, I heard it the first time around.”  
Immediately the angel’s face fell. Like a frikking whipped puppy. Oh God. “I’m sorry”, Dean mumbled. Making an angel sad was probably worse than flirting with him. “So, umm, was it all you hoped for? Seeing me with human eyes?”  
Cas didn’t look up to catch his eyes and the words were so soft that they almost got lost. “It was much more than I could have hoped for.”   
“Hey, hey”, Dean’s body reacted before he could catch up with it and suddenly he was in Cas’ personal space and holding his hand again. The guy looked so lost, with his blue eyes wide and his head ducked, that Dean couldn’t help himself. “It’s alright, Cas. I ain’t gonna bite.” His mind volunteered a totally unnecessary ‘unless you want me to’.   
Even though they were almost the same height, Cas was looking up at him, head still ducked as if to make himself smaller on purpose. Dean wanted to lift that chin up, to touch the short stubble, to trace the lines of the cheekbones.   
Damn. He was doing a lot of things but getting a grip was not one of them. So he swallowed heavily and hid at least his free hand in the pocket of his jeans where it couldn’t come up with any embarrassing ideas. But he didn’t let go of the hand he was still holding. “Cas?”  
The other man chewed his lip worriedly. “I broke a lot of protocols for this, Dean. Even before…”  
“Before you told me who you were?”  
The angel nodded, shoulders still hunched. Dean didn’t like it.   
“Hey.” To hell with it, the pocket idea had never been that good anyway. He freed his hand and softly laid his fingers under Cas’ chin. He didn’t actually need any pressure for the angel to follow his lead, “don’t make yourself smaller than you are. You’re gorgeous, okay? And I won’t tell on you. Not that I know anyone who could get you in trouble. But I won’t tell anyone at all. Just to be on the safe side.”  
Dean rarely made promises. He didn’t want to break them so he usually didn’t make them in the first place. But this felt different. This felt right. He was still staring into the deep blue of the other man’s eyes and expected himself to flit away as he usually would. But instead, something like a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.   
There was an answering smile but it didn’t spread beyond the angel’s eyes. “You’re very kind, Dean.”  
Dean’s smile turned into a grin: “Oh fucking hell, no, I’m anything but kind. I’m totally selfish. My line of work, the fact that I’m still around means you’re doing a pretty effing good job at keeping me safe. I can’t risk them reassigning you. I want to keep you.”  
Yes, that was a blush spreading on the other man’s cheeks and his fingers softly pressed into Dean’s, his whole body leaning into the touch. The hunch to the shoulders was gone, too.  
It was so easy. So easy to make this man happy with just a few words.   
Warmth spread in Dean’s gut and it threatened to spill over into a smile that was deep and genuine instead of a grin or a smirk. He bit his lip hard so that the pain would fight the feeling. It wasn’t him. He wasn’t someone who made other people happy. He was the one who got his hands bloody so that they could be safe and live their lives in peace as far away from him as he could ship them.   
“You are a challenging charge.” There was a hint of a smile in the dark voice.   
“Are you accusing me of making your job hard on purpose?”   
Cas didn’t dignify that with an answer. It was true of course, Dean knew it without Cas telling him. He didn’t give up, never openly tried to die, but when Ellen yelled at him that he was reckless and stupid, she was usually right and usually he didn’t care.   
Only today, right here and now, he felt differently. Right here and now, he felt like he should apologize. For not valuing Cas’ work more. For not valuing his own life more. But of course that was stupid, how could he say something like that? What words were there that wouldn’t make him sound like even more of an ass?   
But Cas was still leaning into his touch, questioning and soft, his head at an angle again and he looked more vulnerable than he had any right to be. “Cas…” But there weren’t any words. Words were Dean’s territory only when there was an agenda. He was good at getting what he wanted. He wasn’t good at taking care of anyone else. But then, maybe that was a starting point. If it wasn’t about what Dean wanted, because Dean had messed up already, had messed up before he even knew that there was a Cas to mess things up with, then maybe now it was about what Cas wanted.   
“Tell me”, Dean asked quietly, “tell me what I can do to make up for making your life hard. I will do it.”  
Blue eyes became bigger and rounder, staring at him astonishedly.   
“Tell me”, Dean urged when he sensed that Cas didn’t know whether he meant what he said.  
The way Cas licked his lips was almost enough of an answer before he ever said the words. “I would like to kiss you, Dean.”  
Dean’s stomach did a somersault. That was not what he had expected.   
“I have not had the chance to… and I might never get it again. And I’d really like to know how it feels. To kiss, I mean”, Cas defended himself when Dean’s hesitation became obvious.  
“I’m not complaining, Cas. Just surprised is all. You really haven’t kissed before?”  
“Is that a problem?”   
“No, no”, Dean shook his head before the other man’s face could crumple and fall. He really didn’t like to be the reason for that. “No, it isn’t a problem. It’s a little unusual maybe.”  
The pull in his gut was a clear signal that his body had already decided what it wanted to do. His mind wasn’t quite so sure that it was a good idea to give in to this request. Something about this man made him throw all caution in the air, and it wasn’t like him and it was dangerous. But Cas had asked. And he had told him he could ask for anything.   
The innocence in those blue eyes made him ache. Dean had never been this innocent. Not even when he was a virgin. Even then he had been hardened against the world and a fighter. And when he had set eyes on Cas in the bar, his ideas of what he wanted to do with the other man had revolved around shoving him roughly against a wall and taking him right then and there. But now that he had him all alone in his motel room, things were different. So very different.  
“Alright”, he whispered. He carefully cradled the other man’s face in his hand. “We’ll do this soft and slow.”  
He looked at the other man, asking for permission one last time, and when Cas’ nodded, he closed the distance between them, tilting his head only at the last instant, so that their faces were almost aligned, noses just out of the way. He watched the other man’s eyes flutter close before his own eyes closed.  
Cas’ lips were soft and warm and he pressed his own lips to them without moving until he felt the other man exhale and relax into him. He put his arm around Cas’ lower back, drawing him in until their bodies touched. Only then did he allow his lips to roam. He tugged and licked and nibbled, small movements, very deliberate, mouth still almost closed, always waiting for Cas’ reaction before continuing. A lick was rewarded with a small moan, so he tried it again. A bite brought a stiffening of Cas’ body, so he abandoned that route.   
Even though there was no demand, no urgency, he felt Cas’ body getting heavier against the hold of his arm. He steadied him but the knowledge that Cas was affected by the kiss made his own knees go weak and the small flame that had been burning from the moment he laid eyes on the unruly hair and the bright blue eyes threw sparks that he thought might be able to kindle a fire to burn his whole being.   
He let the hand that had still been cupping Cas’ face slide into his hair, exchanging soft guidance against a tight grip. He felt a hand clutch the fabric of his shirt when he increased the pressure on Cas’ lips, forcing his mouth to open. Using what self-control he had, he reined himself in and waited, but now it was Cas’ who pulled at his shirt and drew him closer and Dean felt safe enough to let his control slip a little.   
He delved into the cavern of Cas’ mouth, crushing him, devouring him, every small moan, every whimper urging him on, sparking a need in him that had no counterpart in his life so far.   
When he finally had to break the kiss for air, Cas sagged limply against his chest and it was almost enough to make Dean topple over. He caught himself and Cas by laying both arms around him and drawing him in for a tight hug. Cas’ arms came up and found a resting place on Dean’s back, while Cas’ face was nuzzled into the hollow of his shoulder. Dean let his own face rest against the other man’s, shaven cheek against stubble.   
He reminded himself that he didn’t like this. That he didn’t like intimacy and closeness and all the baggage and commitment that came with it. That he didn’t hug. He fucked and he kissed but he didn’t hug. Hugging was too close. It was reserved for his brother. And then it wasn’t this kind of hug. Only his body didn’t seem extremely convinced by his reasoning because he could feel it relaxing into the heat of the angel’s body and he knew he should be letting go. That he was already hugging much longer than the standard one-Mississippi-two-Mississippi that was his limit. But what he found himself doing was holding on tighter and deeply breathing in the fresh smell of the other man’s hair.   
It was only when Cas started squirming against him, that he finally brought himself to draw back. He felt the blush rising into his cheeks, but not even that was enough to make him let go of the other man completely. Instead, he kept his hands on Cas’ hips. He didn’t hide his smile when the other man laid his fingers on the bare skin of Dean’s arms, curling his fingers about his biceps and following his own actions with an expression of wonder.   
“So - you liked the kiss?” Damn, even his voice was affected and just as husky as if they’d had sex.  
The shyness in the other man’s gaze was still there and still endearing, but there was a hunger in his eyes now, too. A hunger that made Dean bite down on his lips again, hard enough that he drew blood, just to keep from giving in to the temptation and ravishing the other man. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t destroy this sweet innocence.   
“Not enough, huh?” he asked instead.   
The angel’s answer was hesitant and maybe, just maybe, Dean wasn’t the only one who needed to find his voice again. “Dean, I have told you. I have not kissed before. I do not have any reference for when a kiss is enough.”  
Dean nodded slowly. “I hear you, Cas. I have no reference for this, either.”


End file.
